Part 2

But Aunt Julia drew back with a little scream of dismay.

"Don't bring him near me, child! I never can bear the sight of blood. I dare say he will go mad and bite somebody. Take him away, and tell some one to drown him."

"Drown Pug!" said Amity: she could hardly believe her ears.

"Oh, I wouldn't do that!" said the lady who had spoken to Amity. "I dare say he can be cured."

"I don't believe it," said Miss Julia: "he will be limping about, a horrid object for ever so long. Little wretch! After my giving forty dollars for him, to go and spoil himself so."

"It was very inconsiderate in him," said Mrs. Barnard dryly.

"Well there, do take him away, and relieve our eyes and ears," said Miss Julia. "You should never have brought him here."

"I shouldn't have done so, only I thought you loved him, Aunt Julia," said Amity; and she walked away without another word.

Mrs. Barnard followed her a few steps.

"Take him down to the stable, my dear, and ask my man Lewis what to do with him," said she. "Lewis knows all about animals, and he is a famous dog-doctor. He will tell you whether the poor little fellow can be cured, or whether it will be more merciful to put him out of pain. You are a dear little girl, I think. Will you come some day and make me a visit?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Amity. She would hardly have answered "Yes" so readily if she had not been thinking more about Pug than herself.

She hurried away to the stable, her heart boiling over with anger and pity.

"To think that she would not even look at the poor thing!" said she. "I don't believe she can love anything."

Amity was nearly right. Miss Julia had lived for amusement so long that she really cared for very little else. She had bought Pug because he was of a very pure and rare breed, and because it was the fashion to have such a dog; and also because another lady wanted him. He had amused her for a while with his tricks for he was an accomplished dog, but she had grown tired of him lately.

"Pugs were growing common, like everything else," she said.

She thought she must have a Japanese spaniel.

Lewis, Mrs. Barnard's coachman, was sitting on a block by the stable door talking to William, her grandfather's man. He started at the sight of Amity and the pug-dog.

"What in the world brings you down here, Miss Amity? Has anything happened?"

Amity told her story, and the men clustered round to look at the dog.

"Stand away, can't you, and don't crowd the young lady," said Lewis, who was a very genteel colored man indeed. "'Pears like you ain't no manners at all. Haven't you got a basket or something to put him in, William?"

William produced a basket, and folded an old blanket in the bottom. Pug was laid in his bed, and Lewis proceeded to examine his hurts.

"His leg is broke, but it can be set," he said presently. "He is a good deal bruised, too, but he'll get over that. Oh yes, miss, he'll do well enough, and be as good as a new dog yet! I'll whittle out some splints for his leg directly; but you had better go away, for I shall have to hurt him some, and little ladies are mostly so soft-hearted they don't like to see things hurt."

Amity patted and stroked Pug while Lewis was contriving and cutting out his splints, and explained to him that his leg was going to be set, in order that it might get well; and that he must be a good dog and not bite Lewis, but try to bear the pain patiently. She was so busy with her pet that she did not see any one coming, until she was startled by hearing her grandfather say, in a tone of displeasure,—

"Amity, is this you? What are you doing here at the barn? This is not a proper place for you at all!"

A few days before, Amity would have crept away without a word, to hide in some corner; but she was not thinking of herself now.

"It was Pug brought me, grandpapa," said she. "He has fallen down and hurt himself dreadfully; but Mrs. Barnard said Lewis might tell whether he could be cured, so I brought him down to see."

"Oh, very well! If it is a work of mercy, I have nothing to say," answered Judge Bogardus, smiling. "What does Lewis think of his patient?"

"I think he can be cured, sir, though like as not he'll go a little lame."

"Very well; do your best for him. Come, my dear; you had better walk up to the house with me."

"So you went down to the pond," said the Judge, as they walked along. "Were you not afraid?"

"Oh no, grandpapa! I used to climb about everywhere when I lived in the Green Mountains."

"So much the better for you. And do you like it here as well as you did in the mountains?"

"I should if mother was here," said Amity, in a voice which shook a little.

The Judge pressed Amity's little fat hand warmly, but he did not speak just then. Presently he said in a cheerful tone:

"If you like mountains so well, we will go over to the Mountain House some time and spend a week. Would that please you?"

"Oh yes, grandpapa!"

"Very well; we will consider it an engagement then. Now it is time for you to dress for dinner. Put on a white frock. I like to see little girls in white."

Amity ran up stairs to her room determined to make herself look as nicely as possible. She brushed her hair till it shone like satin, and took pains with the tie of her neck and sash ribbons as she had never done before. Since grandpapa really cared how she looked, she would try to please him.

"Well, how did you leave your patient?" said Mrs. Barnard to Amity, near whom she sat at lunch. "Does Lewis think he can be cured?"

"Oh yes, ma'am! He thinks he will be lame a good while though."

"You owe Amity a great debt for saving the life of your favorite, Julia," said the Judge. "She showed a good deal of courage and presence of mind in the way she saved Pug."

"I think she would have done quite as well to let him alone," said Miss Julia. "I told her to let the men drown him, but it seems she has taken her own way about the matter. There, I am not blaming you, child," she added, good-naturedly, seeing that Amity blushed.

Miss Julia was almost always good-natured, unless she was uncomfortable. She was "pleasant when she was pleased," as the saying goes, and that was something, for a good many people are not even that.

"May I have Pug, if you don't want him when he gets well?" asked Amity, when she had a chance of speaking to her aunt after dinner.

"To be sure, if you want him, child," answered Miss Julia, in some surprise; "but I thought you and Pug were not very good friends."

"We never have been, but he was just as grateful as he could be when I took him out of the water; and besides," said Amity, sighing a little, "you know he will want some one to like him."

Miss Julia stooped down and kissed her little niece—a thing she had hardly ever done before of her own accord. "You are a good little soul," said she. "Yes, you may have him and welcome. I dare say you will make an excellent mistress for him."

"Oh, thank you, Aunt Julia! And there is one other thing: Mrs. Paget wants me to baste the patchwork for the sewing-school girls. May I?"

"Mrs. Paget has sewing-school on the brain, I think," said Miss Julia. "Yes, to be sure, if you like to do it. Why do you ask?"

"I always asked mamma before I did any such thing," said Amity.

"And a very good plan it is, when one has a mamma to ask. Yes, baste as much patchwork as you please. Tell Anna to give you my old pink and white cambric; that will make you some very pretty pieces. I like to help people amuse themselves in their own way, even when that way is not mine. But remember, if I find you bent into a heap over your work, I shall take it away from you."

"I will remember, Aunt Julia. Good night."

"What a pleasant day this has been!" said Amity to herself. "I am so glad I saw Mrs. Paget. I think she is right: I won't think about my looks, only to try to be nice and dress as grandpapa likes to see me; and I will try to be useful and pleasant. After all, Aunt Julia is very kind to me, and all people can't be alike; only I do think it is queer that she shouldn't care anything about Pug."

CHAPTER THIRD.

PATCHWORK.

THE next morning Lewis came with a note and a large Fayal basket, both directed to Amity. Perhaps you have never seen one of these baskets. They are brought from Fayal, in the Azores Islands. They are made of wide thin strips of cedar plaited together, and are very pretty and convenient. The note was as follows:—

"DEAR AMITY: I send you the basket of patchwork, which you will find in a sad state of confusion. There are hardly two blocks of a size in the whole concern. So much for people not doing what they undertake. I shall be very glad if you can put enough to rights for us to begin upon next Saturday: a dozen good-sized blocks will do. I am going to give you a 'Golden Text' to go with this work and any other you may have to do. There are only a few words in it, but they mean a great deal:

"'YE HAVE DONE IT UNTO ME!'

"I dare say you know where it is to be found.

"I hope Pug is better. Lewis says he has as much sense about being sick as a man—which is not saying a great deal.

"Faithfully yours,

"HELEN PAGET."

Amity knew very well where to find the words of her Golden Text, and she repeated them to herself:

"'And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.'" (Matt. 25:40).

"Then I can do this for him," thought Amity—"even such little common work as this. He will know it and be pleased with it."

And Amity waited a minute before opening the basket, while she asked that she might have help to do the work faithfully. There is no kind of good work in which we cannot ask his help.

"But I can't think what any one could be thinking about to cut patchwork like that," said Amity as she spread out the pieces on the floor. "Just see here, Anna, what work! There are no two pieces alike."

"That comes from cutting one piece by another," said Anna, who was an excellent seamstress and a very good girl beside. "You must have a stiff paper pattern and measure by that. Keep to your pattern all the time: that is a good rule for more things than patchwork. But what is it all for, Miss Amity?"

Amity told her the story.

"Dear heart, how very nice!" said Anna, who was an English girl. "Where I came from, we all learned to sew in school. I think it would be good for you to have a class, Miss Amity; it would be a very nice diversion for you."

"I am hardly old enough for that," said Amity, smiling. "I'm afraid the girls wouldn't respect me, and I should be dreadfully afraid of them. And besides, Anna, I don't think I should quite like to do such work for a diversion."

"Many ladies do it," said Anna.

"Perhaps that is the reason they get tired and leave off so soon."

"I shouldn't wonder if you were right, miss. Well, I'll get you the red wrapper Miss Bogardus said you were to have; it will be very pretty to put your stripes together with."

Amity found her work more difficult than she expected; but she was very persevering, and she had Anna to appeal to in any difficulty. By Saturday she had a large number of pieces basted and ready for use.

"Ah! That is something like," said Mrs. Paget as she looked over the box which Amity brought her. "If you can do as much for us every week, it will be a very great help. Did you find a roll of aprons in the basket? I have mislaid one somewhere."

"Yes, ma'am," answered Amity: "I will go and bring it down."

"How very neatly the child has done them! Do you see, Julia?" said Mrs. Paget.

"I dare say she has. She seems a persevering little body. I think it will be a very good thing if she takes a fancy to that kind of work, as she has really no talent for anything else."

"A talent for being useful is about as good a talent as any one can have in this world," said Mrs. Paget, "and perhaps in the other also. There seems, at least, some ground for thinking so."

Miss Julia only smiled. She was used to such remarks from her friend, and did not mind them in the least.

"Papa," said Miss Julia at dinner, a fortnight afterward, "Mrs. Roby called here this morning. She has taken a cottage at Long Branch, and wishes us to come down and spend a month with them. Have you any objection?"

"None in the least to your going, if you like it," answered Judge Bogardus. "As for me, I have another engagement, and with a young lady too: so that my going is out of the question, even if I wished it—which I don't."

"What engagement can you possibly have with a young lady?" asked Miss Julia, in surprise.

"I have engaged to take Miss Amity Bogardus to the mountains. We spoke first of the Catskills; but, if it is all the same to her, I think we will go to the White Mountains instead—eh, miss?"

Amity grew scarlet to the root of her light hair.

"Oh, grandpapa! Did you really mean it?"

"When you know grandpapa better, my dear, you will know that he never says anything he does not mean. So you think you will like the White Mountains, and perhaps a bit of Lake George, quite as well as the Catskills?"

"Yes, indeed! I always did want to see them near, so much."

"I wish you would learn not to color so at every little thing, Amity," said Miss Julia, a little pettishly: "it is very well for a dark girl, but it does not suit your style. Papa, do you really mean to take the child about with you in that way? Who will take care of her clothes and keep her decent?"

"We must try to do that between us, eh, Amity? Do you think you can do your part?"

"Oh yes, grandpapa!"

"Well, I dare say you can. You are such an old-fashioned little body," said Aunt Julia, getting back her good humor, which indeed was seldom lost long at a time. "I must look over your clothes and see what you need. I suppose a flannel suit and two or three calicos, with a nice frock or two, will be best for the mountains."

"You must settle all that," said the Judge: "only we won't have any finery."

"There is no great room for finery in such mourning as Amity's; and, besides, nobody puts it on children now. When will you set out?"

"Some time next week, I think. Will that give time for all you have to do?"

Amity thought her grandfather spoke to her.

"Oh yes, sir!" she answered. "I have nothing to do except to finish my French Reader and baste up enough patchwork to last to the end of the school."

"Eh, what's that? Have you set up school?"

"Mrs. Paget has drawn Amity into working for the sewing-school," said Miss Julia. "Fancy her wanting me to take a class!"

"Well, why shouldn't you?"

"I haven't any talent for that kind of thing," said Miss Julia, shrugging her shoulders; "and I can't endure smells of boiled cabbage and onions, like Mrs. Paget."

"It seems rather a good thing that there are people who can," said Judge Bogardus. "Well then, we will consider the matter settled. Please see that she has everything needful, Julia."

"I will attend to it," answered Miss Julia. "I think we will go down to the city for two or three days; and then we can finish all our shopping at once. Will you like that, Amity?"

"Oh yes, Aunt Julia, ever so much!"

"You have one talent, I will say for you, and a very good one," remarked Aunt Julia—"that of being easily pleased."

"I ought to be pleased when everybody is so good to me," said Amity.

"A great many people ought to be what they are not, my dear. Don't you want to run out in the garden and find some pretty buds for my hair? I am going to a little party at Mrs. Barnard's."

"She is a dear little thing, after all," said Miss Julia to her father, when they were alone. "I never saw a child who made so little trouble; and she has brightened up quite wonderfully lately. If only she were not so dreadfully homely."

"Handsome is that handsome does," said the Judge, as he left the table.

Aunt Julia and Amity paid their visit to New York.

"Now we will have some lunch, and after that we will go up to the Park for a drive," said Miss Julia.

They had been shopping all the morning and all the day before; Miss Julia had bought a good many beautiful things for herself, and some nice ones for Amity—among others a very pretty and convenient Russian leather writing-case and travelling inkstand.

"That is my present," said she. "I shall expect you to write me a letter telling me all about your journey and adventures."

"I think I have too many nice presents," said Amity.

"Oh, the other things are not presents—they come out of your own purse."

"It does not seem as if I had any purse," said Amity. "I cannot get used to the thought that I shall have plenty of money of my own. Mamma had to be so careful and saving."

"Well, well, we won't think about that any more," said Miss Julia, hastily. "'Let by-gones be by-gones' is an excellent rule. What will you have for your lunch?"

"Please choose for me, Aunt Julia. I never know what I do want when there are so many things."

"You will soon get over that, my dear. I suppose something substantial, with an ice cream, will suit you."

Aunt Julia gave her orders, and then leaned back in her corner of the nice little sofa, reading a French book she had just bought, while Amity amused herself with looking about her at the gayly-dressed groups of ladies and children who filled the large restaurant dining-rooms. Presently a lady came in with a little boy who walked rather feebly with two crutches. She set him up in a comfortable chair, and, saying something which Amity did not hear, went out and left him. The child, who was about eight years old, sat very contentedly for a while, and then began playing with some marbles which he took out of his pocket. By and by two of them fell on the floor. The boy looked at them wistfully, but made no effort to pick them up.

"Aunt Julia, may I pick up that lame boy's marbles for him?" whispered Amity. "He cannot get them himself."

Miss Julia nodded, and Amity picked up the marbles, and laid them on the table.

"Thank you," said the boy. "I won't let them fall again."

"I will make a fence, so they can't roll off so easily," said Amity; and taking a napkin she rolled it up and laid it on the edge. "There, that will make a nice fence—now they won't roll off."

"I like you," said the child, looking up in Amity's face. "You are not pretty, but you are lovely. Why do you wear black? Is your mother dead?"

"Yes," said Amity, her lip quivering a little.

"Mine is dead, too. Who takes care of you now?"

"Grandpapa and Aunt Julia."

"Mrs. Franklin takes care of me. She is good, but she is not like mother. Is that your aunt?"

"Yes, that is Aunt Julia. What is your name?"

"My name is John—John Hamilton."

"And mine is Amity Bogardus."

"Say it again—slow, please. Amity Bogardus," he repeated once or twice. "There now, I sha'n't forget. I don't know much, you see, but when people are good to me, I like to remember them. Thank you, 'Amity Bogardus.'"

"What did that child say his name was?" asked Miss Julia, when they had finished their lunch and were in the carriage again.

"'John Hamilton,' aunt; and wasn't it funny? He said he didn't know much, but he liked to remember people that were good to him."

"He looked as if there were something peculiar about him," said Aunt Julia. "I wonder whether he can be Mrs. John Hamilton's son. I heard she left a boy who was quite deficient in mind and body."

"He said his mother was dead, and that Mrs. Franklin took care of him. Did you notice how dull his eyes were, aunt, as if there were a veil over them?"

"I did not like to look very closely at him," answered Miss Julia. "It is not kind to seem to stare at a person who is unfortunate in any way. See what a pretty pony that little girl is driving! I must have you learn to drive when you come home again."

"Oh, I know how," said Amity. "Old Deacon Bradshaw taught me; and he used to lend me his old white horse and the buckboard to take mamma out riding."

Miss Julia began to talk of something else. She did not like to think of the time when her sister-in-law was teaching a little school in Vermont, to support her worse than useless husband and her only child.

A month later Amity was standing in the long drawing-room at Congress Hall, in Saratoga. She had had, as she said, "a lovely time" in the mountains with her grandfather. They had come to Saratoga by the way of Lake George, and they were now expecting Miss Julia, who was coming from Long Branch to meet her father, and spend some time at the springs. Amity was very much tanned, which did not improve her beauty; but still she looked much better than when we saw her first. The sad, downcast look was gone from her face; she held up her head; and the little pulleys in the corners of her mouth had drawn it into quite a different shape.

So when people said of her, "What a very homely child!" they usually added, "but she has a pleasant face, after all."